The Confused Andalite
by trojjer
Summary: Uhm... Not so good as of yet, but R&R if you like, appreciated. Planning on introducing Nightcrawler sometime (don't kill me, lol...).


**A/N: I don't really know where this one is headed… I'll introduce Ax in the next chapter, if I set my mind to it… Probably. Review if you like. Constructive criticism is of course appreciated, whereas merely flaming me will be ignored (and probably laughed at, knowing some of the common clichés). Yes, I know the narrator thing is kinda lame… But I just did it, I guess… No more. Unless… I could try it subtly in future. Hmm…**

**And yes, I know I could benefit from some in depth character analyses, etc… Mehhh…**

**You should all know that the standard "thought-speech" formatting applies; thus text encapsulated within and is either telepathic in nature  or "thoughts-to-self".**

The Confused Andalite 

****

"Sugar rush". That is an understatement when describing the Aristh that is Aximili-Esgarrouth-Isthill – or Ax, as he is known to by his teenage human friends. I have my own opinions about the alien – no, wait, are narrators supposed to speak in first person??? I think not. Oh well then… I have an idea. Let us follow the path of two wandering girls on the way to the shopping mall one Saturday afternoon…

Or are they really girls…?

Yes, they are.

Really? And how can you be so sure?

Because I'm the narrator! And look what you've made the author do – starting a sentence with a conjunctive!

Then I must also be the narrator, you moron! And you are a hypocrite regarding the conjunctives… Oops, so am I, it appears. Ah, it doesn't matter…

Look, quite frankly, we could argue and bicker relentlessly about this over several pages – but to be honest, I think whatever "humour" this began with is rapidly running dry… Okay? And the author is exhibiting some signs of "Multiple Personality Disorder" – but so what??? Anyway, to resume our supposed introduction of the two "wandering girls"…

Ooh, inverted commas…

"Oh no! I broke my nail!" cried my "airhead" associate, Elaine. Yet another time for me to question how we ever formed an alliance in the first place – while I was deep in thoughts regarding the ever-nearing school science project, this girl had, to a large extent, surrendered her cognitive abilities without regret for almost four years, preferring merely to relentlessly fuss about her appearance. Indeed, she had practised this to a fine art. Along with the "Annoyance Factor", that overshadowed it constantly. Together, both of these traits must have been almost equivalent to one of Rembrandt's masterpieces, I thought…

Right – I can't tolerate this for much longer… echoed within my mind. For as long as I could remember, I had been consciously aware of how my inner voice could seemingly project itself into the thoughts of others – however, I abandoned my childish obsession with telepathy when I adopted science as my strongest, most rehearsed subject. I had self-debated the theory countless times, and the improbabilities outweighed the chance of my initial theory to be true.

I was not to know at the time, of how such a typical day at the shopping mall would later unfold…

"What was that? Did you say something, Anne?" Elaine asked as she glanced at me .

"No, must've been someone passing by." I replied, slightly weary.

"Oh, okay… I mean, like, anyone could've said, 'I can't tolerate this any longer,' right?"

"Erm… Yeah." I hurriedly replied, my mind running through the possibility… Could it be true…?

The sixteen-year-old took one last glance at her offset nail – which was painted silver and contained a fault line comparable to the geological feature in San Andreas. Well, almost. She had sat down on a bench to the side of the mall entrance, leaving me to express my boredom by way of standing above her and walking back and forth, to a large extent.

"Oh, what have you broken your nail on this time…?" I sighed, the shape of the park bench wood fitting the contours of my back, and thus calming my otherwise relentlessly active mind. 

No, a day at the mall with Elaine cannot possibly be any more mundane… I thought as a brief calming method.

"Another freakin' Eppsi cola can! You know, I think they should like, print a notice on the label. 'Caution: Ring pull may stress nails to breakage point. Handle with c--'"

"Quiet a minute please!" I strained my hearing, sure that I'd heard a distant trot of hooves…


End file.
